


I'll Be Rome for Christmas

by reveling_in_mayhem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, John is grumpy, M/M, alternate first meeting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21812893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveling_in_mayhem/pseuds/reveling_in_mayhem
Summary: John Watson needs to just not be in London for Christmas. After finding a cheap flight out of the country, he finds himself in the center of Rome in an Airbnb, with an enigmatic stranger that just keeps showing up when he's trying to get away from it all.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	1. Christmas Will Break Your Heart

The four walls of his tiny London bedsit felt like they were closing in on him. He was suffocating in the sea of beige and emptiness. The mobile his sister had given him when he was forced to return home from his tour in Afghanistan sat quiet on the stand beside his bed. It never rang. Never pinged a text. The only person who had the number was his sister, and after she did her “duty” of visiting after his return, she never called. Just left him the phone and walked back out of his life. They were never really close, and nearly dying in the desert sands hadn’t changed anything. Not that he expected it to. 

Outside, he could hear the traffic speeding along the road and the occasional shouts of people as they went about their day. The sky out that window was that hazy grey where you couldn’t see the sun shining, but the light still managed to hurt your eyes and give you a headache. There was the promise of snow in that grey expanse, but it wasn’t quite ready to fall. 

It was just something else that was balancing on a precipice in his life. It might snow, it might not. Someone might call, they might not. He might pick up his gun, he might not.

What he really needed was to get out. Of this mindset, of this bedsit, of this city. He was drowning here as surely as if he were fifty meters under the waves. 

He stared at the laptop on the table across the room and debated the merits of forcing himself to stand up and walk over to it. Walking meant he would have to grab the cane he now needed thanks to a gunshot wound in his shoulder. His therapist said the resulting limp was psychosomatic. He was a doctor. He knew there was no damage in his leg. Knowing that didn’t stop the debilitating pain that occasionally shot through his leg and caused him to limp, though. He couldn’t fix it just by telling himself it was psychosomatic. That wasn’t how it worked. 

His eyes turned to that hated metallic cane leaning against his bed, and he stared at it, daring it to do something. When it refused to get up and start tap dancing or something, he finally grabbed the handle and pushed himself to stand. He glanced at the computer again, and then walked himself to the small kitchen to make a cup of tea. 

He filled the kettle with water, flicked it on, then rummaged through the cabinets for a clean mug and what appeared to be the last of his tea as the water came to a boil. Luckily there was enough milk left that he didn’t have to take his tea without it. He briefly considered whether the effort of making toast with whatever jam he had left in the fridge was worth the trouble, but decided against it. 

Once the water boiled, he poured it in his mug over the teabag to steep. He turned in place, mug on the counter behind him, and found his gaze once more on his laptop. The screensaver was on, some image of a waterfall he had randomly selected years ago, and the image reminded him that he should probably take a shower some time today. Maybe after his tea. 

He fished out the teabag and tossed it in the bin, poured in milk, gave it a quick stir from the spoon he had pulled out from the drawer, and then took an appreciative sip. It was too hot, of course, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying the warmth that went down to his belly and then seemed to spread throughout his body. Mug in hand, and cane, he turned and made his way over to the desk with the laptop. He pulled out the chair and sat himself down, still staring at the the laptop as if he expected it to do something out of the ordinary. He sipped his tea, then finally dragged a finger across the mousepad to wake the screen.

It opened onto a blank page, and it took him a moment to realize it was the blog his therapist had wanted him to start.

“Write about your life, John. The things that happen to you.”

“Nothing ever happens to me.”

He shook his head at the memory, grunting in annoyance at the entire situation before he opened a new window. From there, he stared at the blinking cursor for several minutes, occasionally taking sips of his tea as his thoughts wandered. His free hand occasionally tapped on the keyboard, but never so deliberate to actually type anything. 

He glanced out the window, his eyes focusing on the Christmas wreath that was hanging from the lamp post closest to his flat. The other lamp posts bore the same decoration, as if the people of London needed the reminder that it was December and Christmas was right around the corner. He didn’t want to be in London for Christmas. There was no reason for him to be there. No family that he wanted to see, or who wanted to see him. No friends to spend the holiday with. 

He took a deep breath and turned back to his computer, typing into the search bar for flights. He didn’t have much money to spend, but he needed out of the country, just for the holiday, and then he could return. He found the cheapest flight he could find, not even caring where it went, and bought a roundtrip ticket right then.

There. 

It was done. He would be flying out in 14 days, to spend Christmas anywhere but here.


	2. Chapter 2

John tossed his duffle bag on the bed of the Airbnb he had found for a really decent price, actually, considering the location and the time of year. The aeroplane ride over and the quick ride on the metro has been thankfully easy and uneventful. He had chosen this place due to its closeness to a metro stop, and he was happy that it really was about a 5 minute walk from the underground to the front door. It even had a keypad entrance, so he didn’t have to interact with anyone and it didn’t matter what time he got in. 

The only potential drawback was the shared bathroom, but he decided to be optimistic about the situation. Maybe the other room wasn’t let. Or, if it was, that person was a quiet recluse who just wanted to enjoy the holiday. He double-checked that the door to his room locked, and satisfied that it did, he brushed off any other concerns. The room had a small lockbox for anything truly valuable, and while a person could theoretically just pick it up and walk off if they wanted, he decided that they most likely wouldn’t bother. 

He carefully unpacked his clothes from his bag and hung his shirts and jeans in the small closet that came in the room, and laid the folded vests and pants and rolled socks in the available dresser. Next came his toiletries, but due to the shared bath, he just laid those out on top of the dresser in his tote rather than take them into the room. He didn’t want whoever was sharing the flat to mess with his shampoo and soap. They weren’t anything fancy, of course, but still. The thought of some stranger deciding to use his razor or something gave him the heebie jeebies, and he didn’t want to take the chance. 

Then he unpacked his laptop and charging cord and set them up on a little desk that was set up in the room. He plugged in the laptop and powered it on, then straightened up with a sigh. 

Looking around the room, he noticed a small table with an electric kettle, a french press with coffee, and an assortment of tea bags. He poured the water left from the bottle he bought at the airport into the kettle, pleased that it was enough to make to the minimum fill line, and flicked it on. He could use a cup of tea after traveling the morning. It was only early afternoon, so he had a few hours of daylight left. He would have his tea, then head out for a bit of sightseeing and dinner. 

While the water boiled, and then the tea left to steep, he took a moment to pull back the curtain covering the window. It looked out onto a small back alley. Nothing special or unique about it, but John liked it. There weren’t obvious signs of Christmas being a few days away, and he appreciated that. Luckily the room wasn’t in any way decorated, either. Well, not for Christmas, anyway. There were a few prints of paintings on the wall, just color blocking, but they looked nice in the room and gave a pleasant contrast to the white bedding. 

There was no milk for his tea, but that was alright. He sat down at the small table in his room and took a moment to just sit and relax. His eyes took in the room, the window with its pulled back curtain, the brick of the wall adjacent to his. He actually felt a bit funny, if he were being honest with himself. Almost like he was having an out of body experience. He was not exactly the type of person who just did things like book a flight and leave the country for no real reason, but here he was, sitting in a rented room in a flat for a week, having done just that.

It really wasn’t the most intelligent use of his pension money, or his little bit of savings, but he couldn’t regret the decision. He had needed to get out of London, and he did. Surreal or not, he was actually content. It was an odd and unfamiliar feeling. He hadn’t felt content for months, not since before he was shot, and even before then he might hesitate to say he was content. He had loved serving as a doctor in the RAMC. It was everything he had wanted, but even then, he had felt like his life was still missing something. 

It didn’t matter. He gave himself a shake of his head and told himself to stop being so melodramatic. He was on holiday, a proper holiday, and he was going to enjoy this.

He drained his tea, then looked to the laptop that was still waiting for the password to be entered. He typed it in, two fingers tapping slowly and methodically, and when it was up and running he pulled up a new tab on the internet and searched for restaurants in his vicinity. It was too early to eat, but he wanted to have an idea of where to go. He found one promising one, and then closed the computer down again. 

Seeing as it was just two in the afternoon, he decided that today would be a good day for seeing the Colosseum. If he left now, he would be able to spend a couple hours there in the daylight, and then maybe walk around a bit. 

He grabbed his small digital camera from his duffle, checking to make sure the battery was charged the memory card in place, and then made his way out of the flat and down to the street. 

He took a deep breath when he got to the sidewalk, and after a quick inventory of where he was, began walking in the direction toward the Colosseum. He had seen it in the background, looming large over the city, when he had made his way from the metro. It was one of the reasons he had picked this flat. It was within walking distance, and that was ideal. The sound of his cane tapping against the concrete sidewalk served as a reminder that he didn’t like having to walk too far. 

Granted, it wasn’t usually do to the pain in his leg. He could actually walk pretty long distances with the cane. It was the looks he received from passersby on the street that really bothered him. He was too young to need a cane, too young to walk with a limp, and pitying looks of strangers did nothing to help his mood. Luckily, people in Rome didn’t seem to care as he trudged along. He ignored them, and they, blessedly, ignored him. 

After about ten minutes of walking, he found himself standing in front of the Colosseum. There was something very humbling about standing in front of a stone structure that had stood for generations of men, and would continue to stand long past your own existence. It made him feel small and insignificant, but at the same time, there was something inspiring about it. That man should build something that lasts that long was awe inspiring, and he let his mind wander as he made his way into the amphitheater. 

The grey stones were cool under his fingers as he let his hand drag along the wall as he walked further in. He stepped up to the railing and looked down into the center and the labyrinth that lay underneath. He heard the murmurings of other tourists around him, but he didn’t understand the language they were speaking, so it was easy to ignore the noise. He let his eyes wander up and take in the upper levels of the structure, and he began walking around to take in more. 

It was a lovely day, mild and sunny, and he enjoyed walking around. He wasn’t even annoyed with the sound of his cane tapping against the stones as he walked. He stopped several times, pulling out his camera and snapping photos of the inside, before he finally made his way outside about an hour later. 

Once outside, he took a few more photos with his camera, walking around the perimeter and taking photos at different angles. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering to take that many as he most likely wouldn’t bother to ever print them, but he wanted to remember this trip, and pictures seemed as good a way to remember as any other. Well, he did have his laptop. Maybe he would write up his little adventure on the blog that his therapist kept insisting he should write and he kept insisting would be an utter waste of time as he had absolutely nothing to write about. 

He stopped walking, leaning lightly on his cane on the sidewalk outside the Colosseum, and pulled his mobile out of his pocket to check the time. He had just made the decision to start heading towards a small cafe he saw on his walk to the amphitheater when he saw a flash of something dark in his peripheral vision, and then an arm was suddenly draped over his shoulders. 

“There you are darling, I’ve been looking everywhere,” a deep voice boomed out, and it took all of John’s self control to not shove the person away. 

“I think you’ve got the wrong,” he started, but then a blur of dark hair and a much lower voice murmured in his ear and he stopped.

“There has been a man following you for the last five minutes. His associate is about 100 meters in front of you, and if you don’t let me accompany you, you will find yourself bereft of both your wallet and your cane,” he said, his arm still wrapped warmly over his shoulder and his head bent so that John wasn’t able to get a good look at his face. He suddenly pulled John’s mobile from his hand, fingers flying quickly over the keys, and then held up the phone in what John had learned was the “selfie” pose. John realized he had been angling the two of them and when he pulled up the camera, John could see not only him and this stranger, but also the sidewalk and pedestrians behind them. 

“How do I know you’re not the man trying to rob me,” John muttered under his breath, his eyes quickly scanning over the face looking back at him in the camera phone. Dark curls covered the man’s head and sharp, pale colored eyes looked back at him with a hint of amusement in them. 

“You don’t, but I’m not. Smile, please. I need you to act like we know each other.”

John felt his lips quirk, but it wasn’t a smile, and the man didn’t seem to really notice or care. He quickly snapped the photo, then examined it. “Ah, there he is.” He zoomed in on the photo and showed it to John. “There’s our man.”

John leaned towards the phone, looking at the photo of the man. Now that he saw him, he recognized the man as someone who he had actually noticed for the last several minutes, but he hadn’t thought anything of it. Some soldier he was. 

The man’s fingers quickly flew over the surface of his mobile again, and John heard the _whoosh _of an outgoing text, followed by a second _whoosh _, and he suddenly realized the man still had his arm wrapped warmly around him, an enticing smell of something warm and spicy, like cinnamon, tickling his nose and he quickly stepped away.____

__

__

__He cleared his throat, trying quickly to regain his composure, and held out his hand for his phone. The man looked up at him again, a glimmer of a smile and that hint of amusement still in his eyes, as he placed the mobile in John’s upturned palm._ _

__“The police will be here soon to arrest him,” he said and John nodded. “In the meantime, you should probably try to avoid being alone and definitely avoid that street crossing where his accomplice is still waiting.”_ _

__“Well that’s…good, I guess,” he mumbled, still trying to figure out what exactly was going on. “I’ll just, um…”he began, eyes looking out over the street, but then stopped. He wasn’t sure what he was going to “just”, and the man seemed to know that._ _

__“Hungry?” The stranger asked, and John looked back at him._ _

__“I was heading towards a cafe for a coffee before you stopped me,” he said._ _

__“Perfect. I’ll accompany you,” he proclaimed, and looped his arm through John’s as he began leading John in the opposite direction of the cafe he had planned on going towards._ _

__John stumbled, his cane catching on a bit of brick that was stuck up at an abrupt angle, but he quickly righted himself as the man held him up. The man gave him a smile before taking off again in a slower walk. What the hell was going on?_ _

__“What are you doing? Where are we going?” Strangely, John didn’t feel like he was in any kind of danger from this stranger. If anything, he felt an odd sense of compulsion to follow the man and learn more about him._ _

__“I know a great little place just up the street. Fantastic cappuccinos, and they make all their own pastries,” the man explained._ _

__“Oh. Ok, then,” John said, and allowed the man to lead the way, their arms still looped together._ _

__The stranger looked over at him, an odd quirk to his eyebrows as if he couldn’t figure out why John was just letting him lead him through the city. John didn’t really know why he was either, but he didn’t have anything else to do, and this was proving at least mildly interesting._ _

__“My name’s John, by the way,” he offered, and the stranger gave him a small smile._ _

__“Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes,” he replied, and John felt his own smile spread across his face in response._ _

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine was making fun of Christmas movie titles and came up with this one. I couldn't help myself.


End file.
